


In Media Res

by Hamnashida



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Except for the Regina/Emma love story, F/F, I dip in and out and OUAT is hella confusing, I mean, I'm a genius, as far as I'm aware, cuts this fic by like 9/10, inspired by 5x1, literally the only thing that is consistent and makes sense in this weirdly compelling show, memory loss because if the showrunners can abuse it so can i, projection for how this dark swan thing might end
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-02
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-24 11:11:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4917349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hamnashida/pseuds/Hamnashida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Will you just stop it?  I only just fixed your last attempt to ‘save’ me.  Let it go!”<br/></p>
<p>“Listen Regina, you can help or you can leave me to it, but you can’t stop me.  You’ve gotta have—<br/></p>
<p>“I swear to god if you give me a hope speech right now, I’ll—“<br/></p>
<p>“---hope, Regina!”  Regina rolls her eyes so hard and so long Emma isn’t sure she’s hasn’t died, but no, she’s just being a bitch as usual.  “Come on, what’s—“<br/></p>
<p>“Don’t you dare finish that sentence, don’t you dare—“<br/></p>
<p>“—the worst that could happen?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> K so, this is where we all hope this season is going. I’m using Memory loss as a time honoured plot device and also an excuse not to write like 60k words of backstory. I’m a freaking genius, you guys.

Emma Swan may not be the worlds greatest strategist. She can admit that now. Occasionally, she acts impulsively; especially where her family and assorted loved ones are involved

Apparently, somewhere along the line, Regina Mills had stepped under that umbrella.

So, when she sees Regina, in the eye of the dark vortex, looking so defeated- like she'd been waiting for this, like this was inevitable- well, she can't stop herself. All Regina's anguish and suffering and all her effort going to waste; the thought of all the light she’d so carefully kindled being snuffed out just like that… it’s too much for Emma to bare. So she reaches for the dagger, and swings.

Things get a little… blurry, after that. She remembers snippets. Vague recollections of an impish and violent redhead, flying diners, castles… (did Regina win a joust? Surely not.)

For some reason, there's a lot of… leather?

 

And then suddenly, she comes to with a snap, in the centre of Storybrooke, only ten paces from where she had made her last heroic gesture. (Seriously, does this town have only one street?) Regina is standing in front of her, holding the glistening dagger. Emma knows the darkness is gone from her, and for a moment worries that Regina has stabbed her to take the Dark One's energy in the worst Zero-Sum conclusion in history. But then she realizes that this is not the shock that follows being stabbed. In fact, she feels pretty good, on the whole, if a little giddy. She stumbles, and Regina reaches out a hand to steady her.

“Emma?” The word is tender, cautious and only a little bitchy. Emma smiles.

“You did it!”  She can't help grinning.  How many times is Regina going to come through for her? _'My friend'_ , she thinks happily.

Then Regina is stumbling. Emma catches her, but Regina can’t catch herself, goes to the ground heavily. The blade clatters to the floor as Emma lowers her down as gently as she can, her general sense of wellbeing dissipating in an instant. “Hey, hey… you’re going to wreck your suit,” she says, trying to quell her growing sense of dread, checking Regina over for injuries. Joking aside, Regina would not lie down on this street, in that outfit, unless she was seriously hurt. She pushes back the canvas of her jacket, and loses the last of her composure. A bloom of blood is spreading from Regina’s side, apple red against the crisp snow white of her shirt. Emma presses a shaking hand over the wound as hard as she can, achieving nothing.

  
Regina winces. “I think the suit may be a lost cause at this point.” She says, thumbing the hole in the lining, sounding genuinely forlorn.

  
“Regina… Regina! What did you _do_?!” Emmas eyes fly about for help, but the street is deserted. On the floor a few feet away lies the dagger- no, Emma looks closer. It’s a sword, with the same design at the tip, a ruby jewel set in the hilt. The newly mended Excalibur has blood on the tip. “You _idiot_. Why couldn’t you just let me save you?!” Emma cannot keep the howl from her voice, cannot be arch or dispassionate. Stupid, bloody minded woman! What was Emma’s sacrifice even _for_?!

  
Regina has the nerve to look annoyed. “What did _I_ do? You started it! I didn’t realise this town had a one-martyr limit.” She winces, and her head lolls backwards to the pavement, eyes unfocussed. Emma slides her free hand to back of Regina’s dark head, cradles her to her chest. Her mind cycles ideas uselessly. She can’t carry Regina. She can’t phone an ambulance. She doesn’t know a healing spell. She can’t do anything.

  
It doesn’t help that her vision is blurring. “I have to… just, just hold on, I’ll get help, I can-”

  
“Emma. _Emma_. **EMMA**!” Regina’s hand is warm on her cheek. Her thumb brusquely wipes the tears aside. Emma takes a shakey breath, tries to focus on Reginas voice.

  
“Listen to me. Listen! You… you have to make sure… Henry goes to an Ivy league school. He’s going to want to do a fine arts degree. Emma, _you can’t let him do that_. Promise me! Law, Emma! At least a business degree, if he can’t be persuaded to try for law. Tell him he can be a ‘human rights’ lawyer. Say whatever damn fool thing you need to say. _No… fine arts_...”

  
Emma sniffles. “Stop, stop talking like that- I won’t promise you anything! I swear to god, Regina, if you die I’ll let him _follow his dreams_ ,” she threatens. ”I mean it! I’ll pay for an Art History major! Regina, I’ll send him to community college, I swear to god, don’t you dare die!” Reginas eyes are fluttering shut, though. Desperately, Emma channels magic into her hands. “I can heal you. Help me, tell me, what do I do?”

  
Regina smiles at that.

  
“Stabbed with the dagger of the Dark One. Can’t just… wave that away, I’m afraid.”

  
“Did I do this? Oh god, did I do this?”

  
“No. You listen to me, Emma Swan. You held off the darkness longer than anyone else could have. You were brilliant. If I see you moping around out here, I’m going to haunt you. Be happy, and raise our son to be a good man. Or none of this was worth a damn thing.”

“I just wanted you to be happy.” She says, hopelessly. She holds Regina’s hand to her cheek, rests her forehead on the other womans, eyes closed. She doesn’t remember much of what happened in the last few months, but this pose feels comforting, familiar somehow. Regina sighs, and Emma feels it going through her body, Regina’s thumb brushing her cheek again.

  
Something snaps in Emma. “Fuck it.”

  
She starts gathering magic again, no idea what she’s about to do. But she didn’t know how to save herself on the bridge either, but when she needed to she just figured it out, right? This is no different.

  
“Emma, what are you doing,” Regina hisses, weakly.

  
“I have no idea,” she says with shrug, giving Regina a blasé but tearful ‘hey, what ya gonna do?’ look.

  
“Will you just stop it? I only just fixed your last attempt to ‘save’ me. Let it go!”

  
“Listen Regina, you can help or you can leave me to it, but you can’t stop me. You’ve gotta have—"

  
“I swear to god if you give me a hope speech right now, I’ll—“

  
“ _Hope_ , Regina!” Regina rolls her eyes so hard and so long Emma isn’t sure she’s hasn’t died, but no, she’s just being a bitch as usual. “Come on, what’s—“

  
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence, don’t you _dare_ —“

  
“—the worst that could happen?”

  
Emma smiles at the other woman through her tears, and Regina is giving her that look, the ‘ _oh, all right Miss Swan, have it your way_ ’ look. Regina’s hand grows warm with her own familiar magic; it jumps to join Emma’s the way it always does. “I don’t even know what you’re trying to do,” she grumbles.

  
“Just go with it.” And then, because the moment seems to call for it; “Abracadabra?”

  
She has only a second to appreciate Regina’s look of disgust before the whole world is swallowed in light.


	2. Hope is the thing with feathers, right?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As is usual with magic, 'success' is a relative term.

  
The light fades, leaving the air humming with the pleasant tension of magics working in harmony.  It’s not unlike the feel of heat rising after a summer storm, and Emma inhales deeply, contently, and opens her eyes.   The last of the energy glimmers in the air, casting a beautiful and peaceful light over the deserted main street, and she knows the spell has worked.  Then she looks down, and she has a second, less serene realization.

She’s about to die.   

‘ _Shit shit shit shit shit.  She’s going to kill me.  She’s going to break my arms right off my body, and that will be it, I will be dead.’_

She looks around the street in the vain hope that Regina is standing behind her with that mocking look on her face; that the magical mishap was that she’d accidentally given Regina a sense of humour, and this was a prank. 

No such luck. 

Emma breaks out in a cold sweat, lurching back from… what she presumes is Regina, putting a safe distance between them as the other woman begins to rouse. 

Yes, the spell has worked.  And if even if Regina  _doesn’t_  kill her for it, she’s never going to let her live it down.  Emma is unsure which prospect is worse.  Regina’s eyes open, and one blearily fixes on Emma.  She shakes her head to clear it, and is visibly startled by the unexpected violence of the motion—well, she has rather a lot more neck than she’s used to.

“R-regina!” The Savior stammers, her tone as light and airy as she can make it.  “We did it!  You’re alive!  Isnt’ that… that’s great, isn’t it!  Just, uh, hold on to that thought.”

Regina is clearly groggy and disoriented, and struggles against the clothes that now tangle her limbs, increasingly frantic.  “Now, regina, there’s no need to panic, so just-“

Instantly, she begins to panic. Emma puts aside her caution to go help her friend.  She probably deserves a broken arm for this one, anyway.  “Regina, calm down, calm down!  Just let me help—“  This is met with an outraged squawk and a fair attempt to bite Emma’s face, which she just about dodges.  “I know, I know, some help I am- I get it!  Just hold still so I can untangle you, ok?”

Regina does still, but she’s visibly shaking, small body heaving deep breaths into new lungs.   Emma removes the jacket from her, well, her wings, one by one, then unbuttons the shirt that is now more of a collar on her long and graceful neck.  She folds the bloodstained clothes neatly, because she doesn’t want to push Regina over the edge here by creasing her suit on top of everything else.  The disoriented woman, now free of her restraints, lumbers into the street on new legs and tries to figure out the mechanics of her body.  

The swan formerly known as Regina twists her long neck this way and that, getting a better look at herself.  Her voice comes out in a harsh bleat that startles her. Her head whips around dizzyingly as she tries to figure out how to fold her wings with all the grace and poise of an anaconda trying to fold a roadmap. If Emma had a cameraphone with her, she could get a million hits on youtube with this ‘drunk swan’ before sunrise (after a quick google to make sure that thing about swans being able to break your arms wasn’t really true).

She relies on the naturally dour set of her face to keep from smiling at the sight.  She gathers her thoughts; the last few minutes have been a bit of a rollercoaster.  Perspective- Regina is alive.  This is fine.  They can fix this. 

In the light of the moon and their fading magic, Regina’s feathers shine a luminous white.  It’s quite beautiful, really. 

Wisely, Emma keeps this observation to herself.

She waits what she feels is an appropriate length of time, then tries again.  “Regina, are you still hurt?”

This distracts Regina from her limb reconfiguring exercizes; her head whips around to give Emma a particulary   beady side-eye.  She looks under her left wing, then back at Emma and shakes her head begrudgingly. Emma risks a smile, then.  “Look, I know this isn’t exactly what you might have had in mind, but—“ 

This prompts a hissing burst of fury from Regina. Emma leaps back out of range as the waterfowl extends her wings to their full impressive span and starts waving them around, gesticulating in ways which are deeply reminiscent of her human self.  She backs Emma around in a circle, getting better on her legs every second, which Emma would be happier about if she wasn’t genuinely scared about that arm-breaking thing.   “Regina, I can’t understand you, can you just calm down for one minute!”  The noise is ungodly.  Emma can practically hear the searing insults, and is glad she can’t understand what’s being said, though she’s pretty sure she’s figured out the swan for ‘idiot’ after a few minutes of ranting.  Eventually Regina burns herself out, and they come to a stop in the street, panting and looking at each other.

“Are you… are you done?” She wheezes.  Reginas wings flop to the floor and her head sinks forlornly.  Emma is bitten by remorse, and kneels down beside the other woman, puts a hand on top of the curve of her neck in consolation-- then Regina springs her trap, twisting like an adder and brutally clamping her bill over Emma’s thumb.  “OW!”  Emma topples back onto her ass, cradling her hand.  Regina pulls herself up to full, regal swan height, and finally folds her wings on her back, tilts her head at Emma in a way that says ‘ _Ok, NOW I’m done’_ as clearly as words ever could. 

Emma can’t help it, she laughs.  “Ok, ok.  Geeze.  Ow.”  Regina shrugs, then folds her legs to sit on the road next to Emma.  A few moments pass in silence, as both struggle to process everything that has just happened, and is still happening. 

After a while, Regina turns to look at Emma, gesturing towards her hand with her head, then tilting her neck questioningly- Emma gets it.  “Nah, its fine, nothing broken.”  She gives Regina a thumbs up to prove it, and Regina looks mollified.

“We’ll fix this,” she adds, a moment later.  “At least you’re not – not hurt anymore. That’s a start.”  The swan nods.

Emma looks at her, pensive for a moment.  “Hey… you saved me.  Again.”  The swan responds with a half hearted shrug; ‘ _you saved me first.’_

“How did you do it?”  Regina shoots her a baleful lookand Emma winces, “Oh, right, you can’t-- sorry, sorry.” It really is amazing how much expression Regina is achieving without eyebrows, lips, or a face, but probably it’s a bit much to expect a detailed rundown of the few  months through the medium of neck movements.  That’s frustrating- she has only the vaguest idea of how much time has passed and what’s happened.  She looks around and notices for the first time how strange it is nobody else is here- usually they all manage to gather in the one place for these dramatic moments.  She’s glad they’re alone right now, though; in particular she finds she’s glad Hook isn’t here to antagonize Regina any more than she is already.

“Where are the others- are they ok?”  Emma’s not really worried, Regina would have told her if something had happened.  Regina nods, yes they’re fine, then rises to her feet.  Emma follows suit, picking up Regina’s dropped clothes and the ruby hilted sword.  “Let’s go find them.” 

 

 

 

 

 

They walk to Regina’s house.  It’s slow going, but Emma doesn’t mind walking down these familiar streets, swinging Excalibur idly at leaves, potted plants and store signs, to satisfying effect.  Regina rolls her eyes (or rather, gives a strong impression of having rolled her eyes) but doesn’t show her usual concern for property values.  Emma supposes she’s got other things on her mind.

She gets as much detail on what’s been happening as she can by asking only yes/no questions.  Yes, everyone is alive and well.  Yes, there was another memory curse (Emma had asked that question as a joke, not expecting a deeply exasperated nod in response.)  Yes, it was broken now.  Did Regina break it?  A delay, then a nod that, for a split second, makes Emma extremely unhappy .   So things are going well with Robin?  Another slow nod.  Emma shakes this feeling off, and changes the topic, telling Regina the bits and pieces of the last few months she can remember.  Were they in Camelot?  Is Mulan going out with a Scottish Princess?  Did the diner fly?  Did Henry go on a DATE?! 

This last point absorbs the woman and the swan until they reach the mansion.  Within the half hour it took they had perfected their new mode of conversation till somehow Emma had almost forgotten that Regina was any different from usual, and from the lightness in her step she thinks that for a moment Regina forgets it, too.

 

 

The rest of their motley crew are gathered in the kitchen of Regina’s house.  Books are scattered across the countertops, interspersed with coffee mugs and empty takeaway boxes.   There is a stale locker-room fog to the place.  She hasn’t seen such a haggard, exhausted look on a group of people since she busted those Ritalin dealers at Harvard Med’s library during midterms. 

It takes a moment for anyone to notice her at the doorway; Mary Margaret’s head turns first and she stares at Emma for a moment in mute incomprehension.  Then it’s like she’s been electrocuted.  “Emma?!”  Fear crosses her face for a moment, but she seems to decide instantly that there is no danger here; or at least that she doesn’t care if there is.    She flings flings herself at her daughter, who only just manages to stop her from impaling herself on Excalibur.    

“Hey, Mary Margaret,” Emma smiles, pressing her face into her mother’s frumpy cardigan, avoiding various baby Neal-related stains.  The shorter woman pulls back, tired eyes flowing with tears, searching Emma’s face.  Emma gives her a lopsided grin, “It’s really me, don’t worry.”

“But—but how?  Did you break the curse?  (Oh- I remember Camelot now, I guess you did, sorry, we’re all  _really_  tired.) What happened to the Darkness?”  The others get to their feet from their various perches and trestle beds- Hook wakes Robin by pulling the arm supporting his sleeping head from under him, letting his head smash down on the table with a squawk—and surrounding her a moment later. 

“I… I don’t really know, honestly.  The last thing I really remember is—“ She pauses and tries to think of another way to say ‘ _sacrificing myself for Regina’_ because when she puts it like that it seems kind of intense—“the night I became the Dark One,” she finishes.  There’s a clatter from outside the Kitchen, and without warning Henry smashes into her back nearly toppling the Charming family group hug to the floor.  “Mom!”  Emma twists an arm around his shoulders and hugs him tight, and they become blubbering pile of ‘I missed you’s and ‘we were so worried’s.

Hook stands back a little, giving the family their space, but he smiles wanly when she makes eye contact.  “Good to have you back, Swan.”

Mary Margaret pulls back from the crowd a little to look around.  “Where’s Regina?  Somebody go get her in here!” she sniffles.  “She’s going to be so excited to see you, she’s been really upset.” 

Emma smiles at that, and turns to look at Regina, who is looking disinterestedly around the room as if to say she has no idea what Mary Margaret is babbling on about.  “Ah, well, y’see the thing is—“

Belle, who has been standing back watching them all with a misty expression, suddenly starts. “Um, guys?  I hate to interrupt and I don’t know if it’s just because I’ve had twelve cups of coffee and no sleep for three days, but is that a  _swan?”_

Hook gives her a patient look.  “Yes, pet, Swan’s miraculously broken her own curse, rendering five days of prophecy research completely pointless, as we should have expected-“

“No, no, I don’t mean Swan as in the proper noun, I mean SWAN-swan, like  _Cygnus Olor_ of the family  _Anatidae?”_ she says with exasperation; then, off their blank looks:  “The thing with feathers?!” 

As one they turn to where she is pointing, and for a moment there is a mute stare down as fairy tale characters regard the fully grown Mute Swan that has materialized in the room without them noticing.  Regina tilts her head in acknowledgement, as if it is the most natural thing in the world for a swan to be in the Mayor’s kitchen, and they’re the odd ones for questioning it. 

Mary Margaret looks slowly between the swan and Emma, every attempt to rationalize this new development failing.  “Um, Emma, sweetie.  What’s going on?”

Emma takes a deep breath.  “Well, first of all, the swan is Regina.”  Henry’s head snaps towards the waterfowl, and he crosses the room to kneel in front of her, looking inappropriately enthusiastic.  “Wow, really?”  Regina leans forward to rest her forehead against his, and he guffaws with delight, “that’s so cool!”

Mary Margaret nods.  “Ok,” she accepts, with commendable sangefroid. 

“She broke the curse, and I think she fixed Excalibur?” Robin's head turns to look at Regina sharply; she avoids eye contact by burying her head in Henry's shoulder.

An odd look crosses Mary Margaret's face, but just nods, and accepts this too. “Uh huh.”  

“But, I think I might have stabbed her first.” 

“Oh,  _Emma_ ,” Snow tuts, mildly.

“So I fixed it—“ the swan honks derisively at this, erasing any lingering doubts anyone had about it’s true identity “—by turning her into a swan.  Which  _worked,_  by the way, so I don’t know why she’s complaining.”

The swan hisses in response, and Mary Margaret jolts.  “Regina!  How can you speak that way to the mother of your child!”  Everyone, including the swan, stares at Snow in astonishment for a wide variety of reasons. 

Regina hoots inquisitively, cocking her head at her erstwhile step-daughter.

“What?  I speak swan.  I mean, I speak  _some_  swan, but I can understand more than I can speak, you know?  Forest creatures are more my thing and swans’re really river birds,  so technically they’re not  _exactly_ in my wheelhouse but there’s a lot of shared root words, so I can kind of make it out—“  another honk-- “Alright!  No need to be  _snippy.”_ Then Mary Margaret crosses the room to Henry’s side, and envelops the protesting swan in a hug.  “Thank you for saving my daughter, Regina.  And you don’t scare me.  That thing about breaking people’s arms is just a myth.”

‘ _There’s a first time for everything,’_ Regina  mutters in her ear.  Snow only smiles, and hugs her harder.

 

A certain amount more exposition happens before Snow says that, with the immediate threat dealt with everyone would be best off going to sleep for a little while; the rest can be taken care of in the morning.  Emma wants to protest but she can see that whatever has been happening over the last couple of days has really taken it’s toll on the rest of the group, and now she’s home—uh, Regina’s place, tiredness begins to hit her too. 

She still has a lot of unanswered questions; so does everyone else.  But for now they’re all tucked up in the many (completely superfluous) guest bedrooms around the house.  Emma and Belle crash in Regina’s room, because swans are tiny and don’t need enormous queen sized beds so Regina can just deal with it. 

The second Emma’s head hits the pillow, she’s asleep.  At other corners of the house, others are having a harder time of it.  Hook and Robin lie side by side, silently worrying about the same thing- just how did that curse get broken, exactly?  And what of the rest of that prophecy they had tirelessly researched- why wouldn’t Regina say exactly how she’d fulfilled it?  There was really only one answer, and both were taking the safe option, and refusing to even consider it. 

Regina had just found another way, that’s all.

Mary Margaret waits until David is asleep, and then gets out of bed again.  She pads down the stairs into the hallway, where she hears a clinking sound from the living room.  She opens the door and finds a frustrated swan trying to open the door to her drinks cabinet.  It is going as well as you might expect.

“Hey,” she calls out, softly.

Regina turns, and sags a little when she sees her.  “Oh, it’s you.”

“You were… hoping for someone else, perhaps?”

“No, no.  I’m glad to see you, actually,” she says, and Mary Margaret is about to feel touched when she finishes, “Or your opposable thumbs, at least.  I  _really_  need a drink.”

“Ah.”  She walks over to the cabinet and unlocks it to find a rack of unmarked, expensive looking decanters filled with amber liquid. 

“The Laphroaig. Third on the left,” bosses Regina.  Mary Margaret takes down the bottle and one glass, pouring what even Regina would consider a generous measure.  Then, ignoring Regina’s affronted look, she walks over to the uncomfortable sofa and sits down, heavily.

Snow has been turning the details of this evening over and over in her head.  Unbidden, other memories have been rising, begging for reinterpretation.  Regina and Emma working together to save Henry.  Regina and Emma throwing affectionate jibes at each other over family dinner in the diner.  Regina’s protectiveness over Emma’s heart, her determination that she should master her gifts.  Emma’s wild eyed panic when she thought Regina might be in danger. 

Emma giving herself up for Regina’s happiness was perhaps one of the less telling things they’ve ever done.

She takes a fortifying sip of Regina’s whiskey, and immediately chokes.  “Oh—oh my GOD,” she sputters as tears spring to her eyes.  “Euuurgh!  It tastes like- like burning car tires!  Ugh!  How can you want to  _drink_ this?!”

“You have an unsophisticated palate.  It actually has a peaty nose, with delicate oak overtones.  The car tires come on the finish.  Also, where the hell is mine?”

Snow forces down another sip to avoid having to break this news to her:  “Regina,” she says, in the tones doctors reserve for positive test results.

Regina sees where this is going.  “No, please, don’t tell me…”

“Alcohol is poisonous to birds, Regina.”

Poor Regina’s whole form slumps in misery.  “…I hate her,” she grumbles.

Mary Margaret raises an eyebrow.  “Well, we both know  _that’s_  not true,” she says, finally arriving at the reason for this conversation.

Regina doesn’t respond for a long while, then sighs a weird, swan sigh.  “I suppose not.”

“You broke the curse?  And the prophecy… we thought it was all of us.  But it was just you, wasn’t it,” she guesses.

“Did you come down here to warn me away from your daughter? “

“No, actually.”  She takes another deep, painful swig and coughs.  “I just wanted to see if you were okay,” then adds, “And I had a feeling you might accidentally poison yourself.”

Regina suddenly feels very petty.  And how had she and Snow managed to get to the point where she would  _actually_ consider talking to her about this?  I mean, not now, not when she had only put the pieces together herself two hours ago, not when her head was still spinning with the totalinsanity of it all.  But in a few decades, on one of their deathbeds... perhaps.

"I'm fine," she hedges, for the meantime.  "I appreciate your concern though.  Thank you."

Mary Margaret nods, and sensing that Regina would genuinely rather be alone at the moment, rises to go.  "Just so I don't put my foot in it with Emma- does she know?"

"No.  And I'd prefer it if she didn't.  It's too complicated to go into right now."  Mary Margaret nods and says nothing, closing the door gently after her on the way out, leaving the former villain to her (depressingly sober) thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realised that one of the jokes that features quite heavily in this chapter might not cross the Atlantic so well. In England it is a commonly held and totally inaccurate belief that a swan can snap a mans arm with a single beat of its wings, but apparently in the US it's not a common myth. Ah well. Hope you weren't to confused!
> 
> As for the choice of curse... well, there are many Irish fairytales where people get turned into swans, and once I had that idea I couldn't shake it, lol. Particularly because it gives MM an important role, and I actually love her stupid character to bits. :)


End file.
